If You Hate Me (Toronto Terror #1) Read Online Helena Hunting

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Funny, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Toronto Terror Series by Helena Hunting
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
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“Total classic,” Hemi says.

Hammer nods. “Oh yeah. That movie is a must.”

I make a circle with one hand, and put the tips of my fingers together, sliding them through the hole, until I’m gripping my wrist while making a fist.

“Oh my God!” Hammer jumps to her feet. “His whole hand?”

Hemi’s jaw drops. “No!”

I hide behind my hands. “Not to the wrist, but yes.” I should have known better than to think his comment about getting the cucumber and his cock inside me at the same time was offhand.

“But didn’t that hurt? His hands are huge,” Hammer asks.

“You would have thought so,” I say from behind my hands. “But no. I did think I was going to die from coming so hard, though.”

“Well, that wins the filthy trophy right there. How the hell did he convince you to let him do that?”

“I was on the edge of an orgasm for like half an hour, but he kept stopping just before I came. I would have said yes to butt stuff at that point.”

“But couldn’t you have finished yourself off?” Hammer asks.

“I was also maybe tied to the bed.” Because I’d been yanking on his hair. It was an intense night.

The bathroom door opens. “So, um, the walls in this place are really thin.” Tally thumbs over her shoulder. “Also, do you think maybe we can watch this Chasing Amy movie sometime?”

We all say yes.

Hemi looks toward her roommate’s bedroom. “I hope she was wearing headphones.” She turns back to me. “So does this mean you’re dating?”

I scoff. “Oh my God, no. He doesn’t even like me. We made a deal that what’s going on ends when I move out. And Flip can’t ever find out.” This needs to stay firmly in the sex-pact box. Liking Tristan is out of the question. I can’t afford to have feelings for him.

Hemi makes a face. “You think Flip wouldn’t be happy about it?”

“He’d be so pissed.”

“But didn’t you grow up with Tristan?” Tally asks.

“Yeah, but I was a high school freshman when they were seniors, and they both got drafted right away and called up right out of university.”

“Did you have a crush on him when you were younger?” Hammer asks.

“Big time. It was ridiculous. He didn’t know, though.” At least I don’t think he did. I tried to hide it. “He was around a lot when I was younger. Especially before his parents divorced.”

“Divorce sucks,” Hammer says.

“Yeah, Tristan’s mom bailed. Just up and left one day. Said she needed to find herself or some bullshit.”

Hemi’s eyes flare. “I didn’t know that.”

“He doesn’t really talk about it. Or her.” Not that he and I have many in-depth, emotionally revealing conversations these days.

“That’s so sad,” Tally murmurs. “How old was he?”

“Twelve, I think. And he has two younger brothers.”

“So his dad raised three boys on his own. Yeesh. That must have been hard,” Hammer says.

“Yeah. One is graduating high school this year, and the other one is about my age. Tristan’s tight with them.” He’s almost like a second parent. He’s always at Brody’s games, and he and Nate talk on the phone constantly.

“Well, that might explain why he’s so relationship averse,” Hammer says.

“Yeah. For sure.” I think about how pissed off Tristan was when I moved in, about some of the comments he made. Not wanting my drama. Maybe he saw me as someone he’d have to take care of and didn’t want to—other than in the bedroom.

I can’t be that girl who had a crush on him back when I was a teen. Not when my current value is based solely on the availability of my vagina.

“Did you ever hang out with him and Flip?” Tally is adorably invested in my childhood crush.

“I was more of an annoyance than anything. They had to walk me home from school until they went to middle school. But we’d stop at the grocery store to pick up snacks when Tristan came over.” Tristan always had cash. His dad knew how much we struggled financially and probably gave it to him. I’m sure Tristan had strict orders to spend that money on food. “We’d stop in the candy aisle, and Tristan would always let us pick something. Flip loved those candy-coated black-licorice things.” Tristan had seemed so happy to be at our place back then. And he hadn’t minded me tagging along as much as Flip did. Or that’s how it seemed.

Tally perks up. “Good and Plenty?”

I nod. “Yes! No one else liked them, so he had the whole box to himself.”

Tally shrugs. “I like them, but I’m Dutch, so it’s basically a cultural prerequisite to enjoy black licorice. I think it’s sweet that Tristan let you pick something.”

“I’m pretty sure he had to show his dad the grocery receipt when he got home. He always pocketed it.” I remember that—him fishing it out of the bag and shoving it in his pocket. “And whenever his dad would drop him off at our place, Tristan had his backpack and hockey gear, but he’d also have a cooler bag full of snacks. There was always something special for me. But again, his dad was probably responsible.” If Tristan was staying overnight, his dad would send him with things like burgers and bakery buns and a fresh salad. His dad knew how much Tristan and Flip could eat.


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